


I Need You

by HazelBludger110



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: A little emotionally constipated Bellamy, A lot of Clarke in her head, Awkward Tension, Bellarke, Clarke Trying To Understand Her Feels, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Mostly fluff though, Pining, light humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-20
Updated: 2019-02-20
Packaged: 2019-11-01 11:57:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,059
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17866826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HazelBludger110/pseuds/HazelBludger110
Summary: A large portion of the journey back to camp was done in silence, but Clarke didn't mind. It was better than arguing. And better than saying anything else that could make her feel more stupid. She tried to shake her needy voice from her mind. She winced as the plea still bounced around her skull. Maybe she would luck out and he'd hit his head and forget this whole thing had happened?Or Clarke experiences a panic/fear-induced word vomit moment when Bellamy tries to leave after their altercation with Dax. And then she has to sort through her feelings after.





	I Need You

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is my first time completing and posting anything in a few years so please let me know if there's anything that could be improved, I'm pretty rusty and this is unbetaed. It's also my first The 100/Bellarke fic, so that's exciting.
> 
> This picks up S1Ep8 right after their fight with Dax. It's mostly canon, just how I wanted the last 10 minutes of the episode to go instead. Any lines that you recognize from the show are not mine, neither are any of the main characters. Clarke's probably a little OOC though, as a warning.
> 
> Feel free to let me know what you think, thanks for reading!

Clarke gasped for breath, clutching her stomach. The spot where the butt of Dax's rifle knocked the wind from her was likely already discoloring. She looked up to see Bellamy stumbling towards her before falling down beside her. He placed a hand on her knee, squeezing, eyes roving over her. He must have decided she was alright after a moment as he sat back with his head resting against the gnarled tree bark.

 

Pulling herself into a sitting position next to him, Clarke silently returned the favor. Her eyes took in the blood dribbling from the gash across his nose and the abrasions blossoming over most of his face from the struggle with Dax. She wanted to reach over a palpate his abdomen but wasn't certain he'd let her. He was worse for the wear, but at least he was alive. Her heart was still racing from the adrenaline but the relief that flooded her chest shoved out the breath she had been holding.

 

"You're okay," whispered Clarke, clutching his forearm without really giving her hand the permission to do so.

 

Bellamy's eyes were wide, unseeing, and slowly he shook his head. "No," he said quietly, and Clarke's breath was a lump in her throat at the broken sound of his voice. He looked far younger than she had ever seen him. "I'm not."

 

She listened, heart stuttering, while he spoke of his mother. Of how disappointed she'd be in him. His name fell from her lips but he spoke over her, tears breaking free from the pooling in his eyes.

 

"All I do is hurt people," he choked out. "I'm a monster."

 

"Hey," She couldn't take it any longer. Fighting the pain in her stomach and the water in her own eyes, she pushed forward in front of him to force his eyes to meet hers. He looked away but she reached out to grab his arm, leaning to catch his eyes again. "You saved my life today," she stressed. "And you may be a total ass half the time," she forced a small smile, hoping he'd return it. He didn't, but a small scoff fell reluctantly from his lips and he stopped trying to break their eye contact. She clutched him tighter for a moment, swallowing hard. "But... I need you."

 

Bellamy stared at her, his mouth parting ever so slightly. His stare was too intense and now Clarke was the one that found herself looking away. Her hands fell to her lap. "We all need you," she pressed on, bringing her gaze back to his. He looked at her for a heartbeat and then his eyes fell closed, head resting back against the tree again. "None of us would have survived this place without you, Bellamy."

 

And then suddenly he was scrambling to his feet. It took a few seconds for her to realize that he was striding away from her and into the forest. Pushing herself to her feet, Clarke quickly grabbed her rifle and took off after him.

 

"Bellamy!" He gave no sign of hearing her. She felt a prickle of fear, knowing he could easily outrun her. "Bellamy, wait!"

 

He stopped, turning to face her again quickly. "Maybe I helped keep the people at that camp alive but there are plenty of people who haven't survived because of me, okay?" His face drooped, the wind already leaving his sails. Bellamy dragged a hand over his face. He looked exhausted. Clarke shook off the urge to ask him when the last time he slept was.

 

"The grounders-" Clarke tried to say, reaching out for him again only to have him take a step back.

 

"No, I'm talking about the  _ 300 people _ on the Ark that I murdered. All those people... And for what? So I could save myself?" His face was twisted up in disgust. "Because I was afraid? I killed those people. And now," He met her gaze steadily before continuing. "Now I have to live with it."

 

They're her words, of course. They're her words and she feels like her veins have been doused with ice water as they're thrown back at her. "I-"

 

Bellamy just shook his head. "You were right. And now… I can't go back. Just go, Princess. Miller can-"

 

"No!" Clarke shouted, the anger and disbelief of their conversation in the supply bunker flaring with the mention of Nate Miller. "I'm not keeping Miller close, Bellamy. You are. You're coming back with me and we'll figure something out-"

 

"I shot the Chancellor!" He bellowed, shocking Clarke into silence with his volume. His eyes were wide and wild, his hands carding through his filthy hair as he stepped towards her again. "What's there to figure out? They aren't going to just let me go with a warning. They're going to kill me. How don't you get that? How many times do I have to say it? And I don't- no, Clarke. I’m not going back."

 

"Look," she said desperately, snatching his wrist and holding it with both hands. "You made a mistake." He scoffed, shaking his head and trying to pull away but she held fast, digging her heels into the soft earth beneath her feet. "But you can't run away from this!"

 

Her father's watch catches the moonlight and his words come back to her.  _ Forgiveness isn't about what people deserve. _ Clarke still didn't know if she agreed with that. But she had watched the guilt eating at her co-leader for the past few days. She didn’t know if he deserved to be forgiven, but maybe, if it would help...? If it would keep him with her...? She could do that, couldn’t she? "You want forgiveness?" she nods almost frantically now as his eyes cut over to meet hers again. She can feel where her breath is hitched in her throat and it's verging on painful. Clarke wet her lips, still nodding. "I forgive you. You're forgiven, okay? But you need to come back. You need to face this-"

 

"Yeah, like you faced your mother?" he pointed out spitefully.

 

Clarke averted her eyes, wincing with a sigh. They were quiet for a long moment, her still clinging to his wrist but steadfastly avoiding his gaze. "You're right," she murmured quietly. "I don't want to face my mom. I don't want to face any of it."

 

She could feel Bellamy's eyes on her. "All I think about every day is how we're going to keep everyone alive. I'm terrified. All the time. I close my eyes at night and I can’t sleep, because my mind doesn’t stop. All I can do is try to figure out how we’re going to make it out of this alive and it feels impossible. And I- I don't want to go back either." she looked to him imploringly, voice edging towards desperate. "But, Bellamy, we don't have a  _ choice _ . And we need each other if we're going to survive this place."

 

"Clarke-" he started, face strained, and she knows he's getting ready to tell her no again.

 

"No, please. Please, just listen to me. Come back with me," she's holding back tears now, embarrassment itching up her chest to her face but the fear of him off on his own, away from her, is overwhelming suddenly. She feels words bubbling up, words she isn't ready to say, and pushes them down forcefully. She finally dropped her hands from his skin, hoping that would help control her tongue. "We can't do this without you. I-"  _can’t do this without you._

 

"You're going to be fine, Princess. We've got the guns from the bunker, you can take back some and then bring a group back with you for the rest. You'll be able to protect yourselves now! It'll be fine-"

 

"Say the word 'fine' one more time, I dare you!" she shouts, almost stomping her foot childishly as a few tears slip down her cheeks. Instead, she furiously shoved at his chest. Admittedly it was probably just as childish as stomping. But it clearly catches him off guard and he staggers back a step. "Nothing about this is  _ fine!” _

 

"What do you want from me?" roared Bellamy in return, throwing his hands in the air.

 

Clarke shoved him again, just for something to do with her hands. "I want you to come back with me!"

 

"To die?" Bellamy asked, voice bouncing somewhere between incredulous and enraged. His hands flew up like he was itching to shove her back before he clenched them at his sides with white knuckles. "Is that what you want? Because that's what's going to happen when the dropships come. They're going to take one look at me and-"

 

"No!" Another shove, but this time his hands snap up to grasp her elbows tightly as he glared down at her.  She felt the anger fizzle out under his fingertips. "We'll figure something out." she insists.

 

Bellamy rolls his eyes. "Clarke-"

 

"No, stop, we- I-" her voice cracks and she should feel mortified but the feeling is buried so deep under the churning inside her at the thought of having to go back to camp without him. She couldn't do this without him. "I need you, Bellamy, please. Please, just- I need you. I need you to come back with me. I- I need  _ you _ ." She knows her words- her voice- is betraying her now. She's begging and the things she isn't saying hover in the air between them.

 

_ I want it to be you that's with me. I want it to be you. _

 

And there's no taking it back because there's too much in those words, she's given too much away, and Bellamy's grip on her arms slackens as his lips part in surprise. Clarke's quick though, gripping the forearms of his jacket now in closed fists, keeping their eyes locked and pushing forward. "We will figure something out. I promise. Just... come back with me."

 

He stares back at her and the only sound is the wind and the creaking of the forest around them. As Clarke watches, his throat bobs and a small breath escape his lips. She’s holding her own and a trickle of hope filters into her chest.

 

She latches on to it, shuffling another inch forward with wide pleading eyes. "Let's go get the guns. We'll bring as many as we can back to camp tonight and come back for the rest with a group tomorrow like you said. What do you think?"

 

Bellamy's silent for a long moment before he looks away, nodding. He steps out of her reach and jerks his head forward in a sign to follow him. His voice is gruff, giving nothing away in spite of her spilling her guts all over the forest floor. "And the blankets you found. You were right, at least it's something."

 

Clarke forces herself to focus on the relief of getting through to him as she quickly falls into step behind him instead of the shame now pooling in her chest as her words ring in her ears. Had she really just said all that?

 

Her face flamed in the darkness as she followed a few steps behind him back to the bunker.

 

\---

 

A large portion of the journey back to camp was done in silence, but Clarke didn't mind. It was better than arguing. And better than saying anything else that could make her feel more stupid. She tried to shake her needy voice from her mind. _ I need you.  _ She winced as the plea still bounced around her skull. Maybe she would luck out and he'd hit his head and forget this whole thing had happened?

 

She barely kept the humorless laugh from escaping her lips.

 

On the plus side, she was confident that Bellamy had decided against running off. She could, at least, take comfort in the fact that he wasn't going to abandon her and leave her to do this alone.

 

_ You're not alone. _

 

The words she had shouted at Finn echoed in her mind suddenly. Her face soured. She had said the words trying to convey that she was there for him. She was all in with him- with Finn, a boy she had started falling for despite hardly knowing at all. But it had been so easy with Finn. He was attractive and kind. Funny, charming, smart. He had a knack for sticking up for others that she admired. She'd felt drawn to him almost immediately. And in the end, she’d gone willingly. Wholeheartedly, even. And then his beautiful, fierce, incredibly brilliant girlfriend fell from the sky and it turned out it was never easy at all.

 

Hindsight is 20/20, after all.

 

Clarke looked over at Bellamy. They were walking next to each other, separating around trees now and then before coming back together. He still hadn't said anything since they gathered the guns and blankets on their backs at the bunker. Bellamy was... the opposite of easy.

 

Not that she was comparing the two of them. Not really anyway. But it was true. Nothing was simple or straightforward with Bellamy. He fought her on everything, right out of the gate, always and without fail. He was all razor-sharp edges when they landed. Selfish and cocky and aggressive. She could still practically taste her immediate dislike for him Day 1 on the ground. Some of that distaste was still there, but it was diluted. She had told herself that, at best, her feelings for him were... convoluted. Or so she thought.

 

_ I need you. _

 

Clarke felt her eyes drift toward her co-leader again, thankful that the darkness continued to hide her blush. When had she become so dependent on him? How had that happened without her noticing? She tried to pinpoint it, thinking back on the last few days.

 

She had known that she was softening towards Bellamy even before seeing what a toll fighting with Octavia over the grounder was taking on him. Continuous frustration had already begun to give way to tolerance and grudging respect after Murphy. After Charlotte. But seeing the slump of his shoulders every time Octavia brushed him off made it harder and harder to hate him until suddenly she just didn't. Clarke knew that someone who cared that much about another person couldn't be all bad. Not really, at the core anyway. Bellamy had been dealt an impossible hand and was just bluffing his way through the game, whatever means necessary.

 

That was one of the reasons she had asked him to go with her to the supply bunker in the first place. She had overheard his fighting with Octavia in the dropship and thought he could use a break. Some time away from camp to clear his head. The thought had surprised her a little initially. It was an act of kindness that wouldn't have crossed her mind a week ago.

 

Yet she had found herself asking him anyway

 

And now here she was: Guns strapped to her back, her middle aching from a dead comrade’s blow, and her mind full of Bellamy Blake.

 

Maybe she just needed some sleep? It had been a long day, her mind could be playing tricks on her. So she shook her thoughts away and spent the rest of the walk brainstorming ways to keep the Ark guards from gunning down her co-leader on sight. The irony of this being dubbed a safer topic was not lost on her, but it was pointedly ignored.

 

Clarke figured there was a small chance that imploring to Jaha's better nature would work. Pointing out that he had sent them all to the ground to die, but that they had defied expectations in spite of him painted a nice picture. The fact that they survived meant the rest of the Ark now had that chance too. And she knew they wouldn’t have made it without the older Blake. She doubted it would be enough to sway Jaha on Bellamy though. He had attempted murder after all.

 

She was a solid 70% sure, however, that using Jaha's need to eliminate the most immediate threat would work in their favor. Shumway was still up on the Ark with the Chancellor after all, potentially still plotting his demise and/or death. Clarke decided it was safe to voice her thoughts to Bellamy as the wall around their camp came in sight up ahead.

 

Bellamy glanced over and away quickly. "We can try it," he concedes. He's quiet for a moment. "And if that doesn't work?"

 

The thought _ I'll protect you  _ almost spills out of her mouth and has her blanching. What was happening to her? "Then... we hope the grounders get to him before he gets to you?" she offered instead.

 

She stomped down the pleasant feeling that filled her chest at his surprised snort of laughter. A smirk curled his mouth as he shot a look over at her again. "You know, Princess, sometimes I think I underestimate you."

 

"Oh, I am  _ positive _ that you underestimate me," she responded, rolling her eyes.

 

Bellamy shook his head, smile looking more rueful now, and opened his mouth to respond but snapped it shut abruptly. They had reached the wall now but fell quiet as the panicked sounds and conversation drifting over it.

 

The grounder had escaped.

 

Clarke's eyes shot over to Bellamy, dread filling the pit of her stomach. His lips had fallen into the familiar hard line she had grown used to. She tried to tell herself she didn't prefer his smirks and smiles.

 

His gaze fell on hers and he gave her a nod that she returned before they strode together into camp.

 

\---

 

"Bellamy Blake, you are pardoned for your crimes."

 

Clarke fought to keep herself from physically sagging in relief. Her eyes shifted to Bellamy and a smile threatened to split her face open as she saw the satisfied grin on his face. She brought her gaze to her lap, attempting to slow the pounding of her heart against her ribcage.

 

_ Sleep,  _ she told herself again. She just needed some sleep and then she’d wake up refreshed and ready to continue her professional relationship with Bellamy Blake.

 

She wouldn’t have a choice really, anyway, it wasn’t like he had even acknowledged her pathetic sobbing outburst in the woods-

 

“Clarke?”

 

Her head jerked up from where she had been poking bitterly at a loose thread on her pants. Bellamy was looking at her, comm headset in his hands. She glanced at the monitor and Jaha was gone, the screen blank.

 

Clarke quickly pulled her own headset off, yanking a piece of hair that got twisted around the mic. A quiet “Ow,” was pulled from her lips.

 

She tried to untangle it briefly before a hand stilled her. Clarke prayed that her intake of breath was quieter than it sounded in her head.

 

The quiet chuckle from next to her told her it wasn’t. “Relax, Princess,” he muttered, sounding concentrated as he gently maneuvered her hair from its knot. “I’m helping.”

 

Clarke felt the flush creeping up her neck and grumbled unintelligibly under her breath.

 

It was done as quickly as it started, and soon he was placing her headset next to his on the table while she rubbed at the sore spot on her scalp were the hair pulled.

 

They stood together and stepped out of the tent. She turned to him, taking in the cuts on his face again. She had offered to clean him up when they got back to camp but he had wanted to speak with Octavia before they sat down with Jaha.

 

She was halfway through suggesting she clean them now when he cut her off like she hadn’t been speaking at all. “Listen, about what you sa-”

 

“Clarke!”

 

Clarke felt equal parts thankful and disappointed at the interruption. She watched as Bellamy’s jaw snapped shut and clenched with poorly concealed frustration.

 

Clarke gave a shrug, her face apologetic, and took a step backward with her eyes still on his face. “Duty calls, co-leader.”

 

“Wait, it’ll just take a-” he tried, moving forward.

 

“Has anyone seen Bellamy?” a voice called out.

 

They were being called from opposite sides of the camp. It would be romantically comical if Clarke was the sort to appreciate such a moment. Still, she felt a little awkward laugh spill out at the look of annoyance he shot over his shoulder. “It’s okay, Bellamy, really. We don’t need to, you know,” She gestured between them with her hand before finishing, lamely, “It’s fine.”

 

She felt his hand on her wrist as she started to turn away. She turned back, eyebrows raised, as he looked at her. “Is it alright if I come to find you after? Or are you going to bed?” he pressed.

 

Clarke’s heart rate was embarrassing, but she pulled off a casual shrug easily enough. “I’ve got to check on a few things beforehand, I should be up.”

 

He nodded, “Okay, good, I’ll-”

 

“Where’s Clarke? Do you think this needs stitches?” someone, Jasper it sounded like, called out.

 

Bellamy rolled his eyes, still looking put out, but waved her off. “Go, before he bleeds out or something. The last thing I need is him trying to die again.”

 

She nodded, moving backward another step with her eyes on him before ripping them away to go search for Jasper. And when she walked right past him distractedly it had everything to do with her lack of sleep and nothing to do with the warm feeling she got with the knowledge that Bellamy’s eyes stayed on her as she walked away.

 

\---

 

Jasper, thankfully, had not needed stitches. He did, however, comment loudly after she cleaned and bandaged his wound that she was not utilizing the moonshine the way he and Monty intended. Clarke only just managed to fight off the smile that twisted her lips at his goofy smile and wiggling eyebrows.

 

Once she was done with Jasper she checked on a girl named Liza that sprained her ankle a few days prior as well as a boy, Kellan, who had developed a rash from what she suspected was poison ivy. Clarke examined and rewrapped Liza’s ankle with instructions to stay off it one more day and applied a fresh cold compress to Kellan’s rash to help reduce the inflammation and to keep him from scratching it.

 

It was then that she took a deep breath and headed for Finn and Raven’s tent. When she reached it she peeked her head in first to find Finn laying on the cot by himself. Clarke wasn’t sure if she was relieved to not have Raven there or apprehensive to have to speak to him in private.

 

He looked over when she entered, but didn’t speak immediately. She squatted down beside him and began checking his wound, pointedly avoiding his gaze. It was looking better, thankfully, which she would have relayed if he hadn’t chosen that moment to speak up.

 

“Guns?” he questioned and his quiet voice boarded on accusatory. "Really?"

 

Clarke felt her back stiffen at his tone but kept her voice steady when she responded. “We need to be able to protect ourselves. We’re sitting ducks otherwise,” she told him, echoing Bellamy’s earlier words and tacking on, “Especially with the grounder escaping. We need to be prepared.”

 

“Yeah. Our ancestors wanted to be prepared, too,” he said casually. “So they built bombs.”

 

She scoffed, annoyance getting the better of her and forcing her to finally meeting his eyes. “Come on, Finn. Rifles are not the same as nukes.”

 

“In Bellamy’s hands they are,” he insisted, and Clarke felt herself bristle at the insinuation. “You saw all the damage he’s already caused with just one handgun. You can’t predict what he’s going to do, Clarke.”

 

She swallowed, a part of her knowing he was right but she was too stubborn to voice it. Bellamy’s vulnerable words from their spot against the tree still floated around her head. Sure, she couldn’t predict what he would do, but she had faith in him. After everything they’d gone through that day she knew he was a good person. He was trying to be better. But that wasn’t her information to share, so instead she said, “There’s no perfect answer. He was just trying to protect his sister-”

 

“His sister’s life was saved by that grounder and Bellamy brought him back here and tortured him. Does that really sound like someone we should have making the rules and deciding who gets to be armed?” said Finn.

 

“If he hadn’t brought the grounder here you’d be dead.” Clarke snapped, smoothing a fresh bandage over his abdomen and standing up. “So maybe you should be a little more thankful that he was willing to do what he had to and saved your life.”

 

Finn furrowed his brow, “Clarke-”

 

“I trust him!” she shouted, silencing him for a beat.

 

“You can’t be serious.” he retorted, looking at her in disbelief.

 

“I am,” she said firmly, tapping down the urge to list all the ways Bellamy was more trustworthy than Finn. “He and I made a decision together to bring the guns back to camp. I trust Bellamy. And I don’t have to explain myself to you.”

 

He looked like she’d slapped him. They’re both quiet for a long moment before Finn speaks again. His voice is quiet, wounded. “You and Bellamy are leading us down a dangerous road. I just wish you would've talked to me about it first.”

 

Clarke stared at him, gobsmacked for a moment before shaking her head and moving towards the flap of his tent “Unbelievable,” she grumbled. But she stopped and turned back around staring him down. “You know, I wish you talked to me about a lot of things too. But you didn’t.” He looked away for a second, shamefaced, but she continued. “And for the sake of  _ honesty, _ it feels like the only person I can depend on now is Bellamy.”

 

And with that, she swept out of the tent, furious and almost running right into Raven. The girls exchanged a look before Clarke turned to brush passed her only to bump right into Bellamy.

 

“Oh,” she said, stepping back, eyes wide. “Sorry, I didn’t- How long have you been out here?”

 

He looked at her for a moment, glancing at the entrance to Finn’s tent and then back to her with a blank expression. “Not long,” is his response as he continues to study her.

 

Clarke feels warm under his stare. She didn’t think it was possible for her to feel any more ridiculous in front of him today, but she was willing to bet he heard at least some of her conversation with Finn. “Right,” she said awkwardly. “Well, it’s late. I think I’m going to call it a night.”

 

“I’ll walk with you,” he said, stuffing his hands in his pockets and turning to walk with her towards her tent. They walk a few steps in silence before he speaks again. “Look, Clarke, I don’t really know how to… I’m not very good at this kind of thing.”

 

It’s quiet, awkward, and Clarke is hit with a fresh wave of embarrassment over her begging in the woods. Not that she would take it back since it got him to stay in the end. But it was obvious he was trying to figure out a way to let her down easy and she’d rather a hole open up and swallow her than have this conversation. “Honestly, Bellamy, we really don’t have to talk about this. I’m sorry if I made you uncomfortable, I just- I couldn’t let you go. You don’t need to-”

 

Bellamy abruptly stops her now that they're in front of her tent. “I need you too,” he blurted out unceremoniously.

 

Clarke’s mouth audibly snaps shut and her mouth was incredibly dry. She stared at him. He wasn’t looking at her, eyes firmly on the ground with his head ducked slightly. It’s in this moment she’s struck again by how much younger he looks. All freckles and boyishness. There’s a slight pink climbing up under the collar of his jacket and what is she supposed to say to a  _ blushing  _ Bellamy Blake?

 

“What?” is her mumbled, dumbfounded reply.

 

He huffed out a breath and gave her an annoyed look. “Do I have to say it again?” Clarke’s certain her expression must be nonplussed because he rolls his eyes at her. “I need you too, Clarke, alright? I just- I needed to tell you that. I feel- It’s the same. For me. I didn’t want you to think that, you know, I don’t or whatever. Because I do. Need you, I mean. So, yeah. Now- now you know.”

 

Bellamy looks especially uncomfortable but when he meets Clarke’s incredulous stare she can see the sincerity in his dark eyes. She nodded slowly. “Now I know,” she agrees. “Thank you.”

 

His shoulders relaxed and he looks relieved, nodding back at her. “Yeah, no problem. Right, so… okay.”

 

“Okay. Goodnight, Bellamy” Clarke felt a smile twitch at her lips and bit down on her lip to stop it from taking over her face. Nervous Bellamy was weirdly attractive, Clarke thought before she could help herself. Something about seeing the usually arrogant guy off-kilter made him seem more human.

 

He smiled one of those nice smiles with teeth that brightened his whole face, as he took a few steps back with his eyes trained on her still. “Night, Princess.”

 

Clarke allows herself another moment to drink the sight of him in before she turns and stepped through the flap of her tent. She removed her shoes and her pants and climbed into her cot, slipping under her new blanket from the supply bunker.

 

And even though the exhaustion from this day ( _ the longest strangest most emotional and bewildering day)  _ is overwhelming, she can’t fall asleep. Clarke finds herself lying awake, staring at the ceiling, trying half-heartedly to convince herself that the swooping feeling in her stomach is just an after effect from the jobi nuts. Because it certainly wasn’t something as silly as butterflies and even if it was they certainly had nothing to do with dark hair, sly smiles, or warm hands.

 

But as she finally drifted off to sleep, it was only one person’s voice drifting through her head.

 

_ I need you, too. _


End file.
